


nothing in the galaxy

by spookynstarbuck



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookynstarbuck/pseuds/spookynstarbuck
Summary: A series of glimpses into the lives of Jedi reader and Obi-wan Kenobi, starting from the time they’re padawans (late teens) and running through the events of TPM, AOTC TCW, and ROTS. No y/n.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. cold hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! Sorry if there are any inaccuracies, I’m fairly new to the fandom. Hope you enjoy :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place when you’re both padawans in your late teens, before Obi-wan’s year spent with Satine.

The morning light peaking through the windows is golden, and it illuminates the motes of dust that float through the chilly air, almost like stars. You pull your robes tighter over your chest and let out a little sigh as you attempt to focus on the text in front of you. The silence of the mostly abandoned Temple library is deafening to the point of distraction and although you were supposed to have finished this reading days ago, your mind seems to wander completely of its own accord. 

The stifling quiet is suddenly broken by a familiar voice coming from behind you, snapping you out of your day dreams and eliciting a little yelp of shock. 

“Hello there.”

_ For kriff’s sake. _

You slam the musty volume shut, picking it up, and smacking the intruder square in the chest.

“I’ve told you not to  _ do _ that, Kenobi.” You shout-whisper, slumping back into your seat.

“Mmm, yes,” he replies, smiling and swinging his leg over a chair opposite you to sit on it backwards, “but you see it’s just so incredibly  _ fun _ , and concerningly easy. You’d think a force sensitive being would be harder to sneak up on. Really, I’m just trying to keep you on your toes in case you ever get out into the galaxy and experience, oh I don’t know,  _ danger _ of some kind.”

You shake your head and give a huff of amusement, the fellow padawan visibly pleased at your reaction. He always did enjoy getting you to crack a smile, despite the fact that it was often to his own detriment. He had made a sport out of trying to get you both in trouble by making sarcastic comments under his breath during training sessions and mission briefings until you’d finally break and let out a poorly contained giggle, resulting in a mutual scolding. It probably would have annoyed you if it weren’t for the goofy lopsided grin he would inevitably shoot your way afterwards, a silent apology that was impossible to refuse. 

He wore a similar expression now, folding his arms on the back of the chair and tucking the bottom half of his face into them, leaving the puppy dog gleam in his eyes exposed. They were an exceptionally sparkly blue, those eyes of his, and looking directly at them often made your heart flutter in a way you rather care not to think about.

“So, have you come here to drag me to some excruciatingly long training session first thing in the morning?” You inquire, the dread of another exhausting day seeping into your tone.

“No.”

He turns his face up to rest his chin on his arms now. “I’ve come to rescue you actually. It would appear our masters have gotten themselves stuck in a meeting of a sensitive nature that is bound to go on for hours, leaving us with a day of freedom.”

_ Us.  _

He has not only already made the decision to spend his incredibly rare and valuable free time with you, but he has assumed that naturally you will wish to do the same. 

He’s right.

“I take it you’ve already got a plan?” 

“Naturally.” He replies, extending his arm towards you and force grabbing the volume from across the table. 

He examines the title. “Kriff, looks like I really  _ was  _ rescuing you, you’d have died of boredom.” 

The book floats gracefully up to its spot on the shelf, and Obi-wan gets up, making his way over to you. He reaches out both of his hands. “How chivalrous.” You comment, shoving down the butterflies that have begun to flutter around in your stomach. 

You place your palms in his and allow him to pull you up, your faces landing inches away. The hair on the back of your neck pricks up. He licks his bottom lip. 

In the beams of morning light there’s a certain gentleness to him, a softness to his features often not apparent.  _ How fitting. _ Over the time you’ve come to know him, you’ve learned that Obi-wan spends most of his time and energy projecting a front of confidence and wit that hides an incredibly endearing vulnerability. Once you get past the bite of his tongue and the sting of his lightsaber you find there’s a certain sadness to him that comes from his belief that he can never be good enough; that he doesn’t deserve to be a Jedi. 

You’re pulled away from your reflection by a change in Obi-wan’s expression. His eyebrows have turned upwards as if in concern, yet he lets out a breathy giggle. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask, your voice a bit softened by the feeling of being this close to him.

“Your hands are absolutely  _ freezing _ !” 

You let out a silent sigh of relief. There had been a fraction of a moment when you had worried he was laughing  _ at _ you for some reason. But of course he wasn’t, he never would. 

“They usually are. In fact most of me usually is-“ you trail off as Obi-wan pulls your hands up to his chest and wraps his robes around them, pulling them into a tight embrace in an attempt to warm them. 

You both fall silent. Your fingers rest just over his heart, allowing you to feel it beating, strong and steady, like him. In this moment you can swear your own heartbeat syncs up to his, finding a comfortable pattern that feels entirely like home. Your beings exist in perfect harmony. Your veins are filled with sunlight. 

Your hands begin to warm up. 

He breaks the silence. 

“How could you possibly be this cold under all of those Jedi robes?” 

You clear your throat and peer down at the various layers of brown.“Not sure really. I’ve just gotten so used to it it doesn’t really bother me much anymore.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief as a little spark of an undoubtedly mischievous nature glints in his eyes, lighting up his whole face. 

“Well I’ve got just the solution. Come along.”

  
He releases one of your hands and pulls you by the other, breaking into a bit of a jog in his excitement.  _ Off we go _


	2. to remember me by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few years after chapter 1. Enjoy!

The double moons shine brightly overhead, and you can see a milky band of stars reaching across the sky. This planet is not so mechanized and densely populated as Coruscant, so there isn’t as much light pollution to drown out the night sky. It’s mesmerizing. 

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen them like this.” Says a voice beside you. 

“It’s- amazing.” Is all you can offer in reply.

You and Obi-wan have perched yourselves on a grassy hill above a celebration going on in the village below, which you defended from a band of pirates that day. There had been a ceremony earlier in which they laid wreaths over your necks and placed flowers in your hair in thanks for your service. The two of you now lay in the grass, covered in flowers and greenery, listening to the celebration below. 

You pull your gaze away from the stars to land on the figure next to you. His profile stands out against the bonfire flickering in the background. He is still staring dreamily up at the sky, the light glittering slightly in his eyes. You can feel the familiar presence of his force signature, a cool brilliant blue, glowing softly and gently meeting the edge of your own. 

“Thank you again for saving me, my Jedi Knight in shining armor.” He says, rolling his head over to face you and offering a small grin. 

A twinge of guilt strikes you.  _ Jedi Knight. _

“It was nothing. You probably could have wiggled your way out of that one on your own, knowing you.” 

“No. Really. I mean it,” he responds, an almost painful earnestness in his expression, “ _ thank you.”  _

“You’d do the same for me.” 

It’s true. He would. 

Still, you can’t help but cringe slightly at his words. You and Obi-wan are the same age, you’ve grown up in the temple together. Yet you had been selected as a Padawan long before him, and you had just taken the trials and been knighted a short while ago, while he was still in his apprenticeship. As kind and supportive as he had been about it, you know it killed him a little bit to watch you move on before him. Not because he was jealous or thought you undeserving. Only because it served to instill further doubt in him about his own abilities. 

The events of today have only made things worse. You had accompanied him and Qui-gon on their mission, as you have been doing somewhat regularly since your knighting. Qui-gon has always been quite fond of you, and you fit naturally into a team with him and Obi-wan. The three of you were battling the pirates, which had turned out to be a nastier bunch than you expected. At one point, Obi-wan managed to drop his saber and get cornered against a building with a blaster held to his head. You had neatly decapitated his attacker from behind with a single stroke of your blade and tossed him his saber, giving him a playful wink. In the moment you thought nothing of it. It was just another fight like any other. But now, as you lay beside him and see the self-hatred and doubt behind his eyes, you worry it had only served to deepen his worry that he would never be good enough. 

You want with all of your being to pull him close and cover his face in little kisses and with each one to whisper to him that he is more than good enough. That he is, without question, the best man and the bravest Jedi you’ve ever met. But that is, of course, completely out of the question. So, instead, you flash him a concerned and caring smile before returning your eyes to the stars, blinking back the tears that have begun to cloud the rims of your eyes.

In the distance, music joins the cacophony of celebration. It’s an enchanting melody, made up of flute-like instruments and singing. You inhale, breathing the stars and flames and music into your lungs, and let it out in a sigh that joins with the breeze that sweeps over the little hill. 

A figure comes into view at the edge of your vision, blocking out some of the stars by standing over you with an arm outstretched. 

You shoot him a quizzical look, unable to surmise his intention. 

“Dance with me.”

_ Oh. _

It’s a gentle request, spoken with the slightest hint of apprehension.  _ He’s nervous _ .  _ The man jumps off of buildings and pilots starships, and he’s nervous. As if I’d say no.  _ You reach up and grasp his hand firmly.  _ I will take your hand. Without hesitation. Every time.  _ The words never touch your lips, but you hope he hears them nonetheless. 

It starts off as a rather raucous affair, to match the spirit of the music. You twirl and frolic about wildly, your hand never leaving his. The moment seems infinite, as if you’re suspended in time and space, the universe gently wrapping itself around you. But, it eventually ends as the song comes to a close, him sending you out for a final spin and pulling you back into him so you come to rest only inches away from him, panting. 

He brushes a strand of your now chin-length hair out of your eyes, smiling at your disheveled appearance. You reach up to adjust the flower crown that is now resting lopsided across his forehead, and as you do a petal breaks off. It’s light pink and fragrant, and silky between your fingers. Without much of a thought you bring it to your lips and give it a kiss, turning his palm upwards and placing it there gently. 

“To remember me by.” 

It’s silly, you know. You’ll probably see him tomorrow and for a thousand tomorrow’s after that. But nothing is guaranteed in the life of a Jedi. 

He parts his lips as if to say something, but no words come to him. Instead, he raises the petal to his own mouth before placing it in his pocket. You never thought you could be made jealous of a flower, but watching Obi-wan Kenobi press it to his lips and carry a piece of it with him did the trick. 

There are so many things you want to say. So much you’re bursting to tell him. But the words die on your tongue as the music starts back up, saving you from your own foolishness. Instead, Obi-wan places a hand on your waist and pulls you into him, resting his cheek on the top of your head and swaying gently to the music like the grass in the wind


	3. pathetic life forms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Begins at the very end of The Phantom Menace. An introduction to Anakin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol the chapters will get a lil darker and sadder from here, but that’s kind of a given with prequels content :’)

The fire burns your cheeks and probably makes the tears on them glisten. Your throat is scratchy and raw from the smoke and choking down the sobs. Qui-gon Jin is dead.

Although he was never your master, you had always shared a special bond with Qui-gon. He had found you on an outer rim planet as a toddler, no more than three or four, and had taken you under his wing. Like Obi-wan likes to say, he was always finding and adopting some new pathetic life form on his journeys. He had taken you with him to the temple and made an effort to check in on you whenever he could. 

When he selected Obi-wan as his Padawan, you barely knew the boy. You were aware of him and had certainly trained and spoken with him over the years, but the two of you had never really connected. However, at Qui-gon’s request, you began regularly training with them and reaching out to Obi-wan. He seemed to hope that you would be some sort of positive influence on his young apprentice. Perhaps you had been, to some degree, although in reality it was more like he was a bit of a bad influence on you, egging you on and making you giggle at inappropriate jokes. Looking back, maybe that was really Qui-gon’s plan all along, to loosen you up, make you more relaxed and adaptable.

The smallest hint of a grateful smile ghosts over your face as you reflect on all he has given you. Raising your head to look away from the flames you are met with the tear-stained face of the only other person in the world who loved Qui-gon as much - if not more- than you. Obi-wan stands staring into the fire, his expression stoic, but his eyes betraying him. He had held him in his arms as he died, you’ve heard. He has lost his teacher, his friend, his father. And, if rumors are true, he has been left to care for a young boy that Qui-gon had picked up on Tatooine. Another pathetic life form. Like you. 

— — — 

Most of the crowd attending the ceremony have left, enough that you can make your way across the room to the young Jedi with the battered heart. He looks up at you, his face largely hidden by his hood. The whites of his eyes are glassy and stained with red, and dark circles hang under them.  _ Oh, my poor sweet darling Obi-wan, what has life done to you?  _ You glance around the area, checking for any disapproving Jedi masters. When you find no one to be watching, you rush into him, placing your arms over his shoulders and pulling him into you. For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe.  _ Kriff, I’ve gone too far.  _

Then, he lets out a tiny shudder and a barely audible whimper, which then turns into a sob as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. You hold him like this for a moment, allowing a new stream of hot tears to trail down your face. 

“Obi, I’m so-“ your words are cut off by his sudden movement.

He straightens back up, inhaling deeply with a sniffle, and places his hands on your cheeks, holding your head with a tenderness that’s almost painful. What you wouldn’t give to have him touch you this way in a time of peace; to feel his thumbs caressing your cheekbones when grief didn’t threaten to swallow you whole. But that kind of bliss doesn’t belong to Jedi. 

He leans down and plants a chaste kiss on your forehead before resting his mouth on the top of your head, breathing in the scent of you.

“You’re gonna be okay, it’ll be okay, I’ll help you. Whatever you need.” You mumble into his chest, your face scrunched up against him.

You stand together like this for a while, maybe seconds, maybe hours, pressing into each other like you might float away if you let go. Eventually, Obi-wan lets his arms fall to his sides, and you both swipe away the saltwater from your faces. He reaches out and links his pinky finger in yours. “Come with me,” he says, tilting his head in the direction he wants to lead you, “there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

__ __ __ __ __ __

Four years later.

__ __ __ __ __ __ 

You step out into the courtyard of the Jedi temple. The early summer sun beats down softly, and the smell of the grass - so rare in Coruscant - hangs heavily in the air. It’s been a while since you’ve returned home, and after being debriefed by the council you’ve made your way to the faces you’ve been longing most to see. 

The two of them are dueling in the grass, their outer layers of Jedi robes cast aside in the heat of the sun. Anakin seems to have grown even taller in the couple of months you’ve been away, and his form is starting to fill out a little. He looks stronger, more sure of himself. 

You then turn your gaze to Obi-wan. He’s been letting his hair grow out lately, and it’s now long enough that it flops around and falls in his eyes as he moves. He’s been looking tired as of late, but in this moment his trademark expression of concern has been replaced by a smile that you can only describe as giddy. Although you’re sure this outing began as some sort of lesson, it appears to have turned into more of a play fight than anything. They’ve almost entirely discarded their sabers and are practically wrestling around on the patch of earth. 

“It’s good to see you two haven’t strangled one another in my absence.” You call out to them, grinning at their shenanigans. 

Both boys turn their heads at the sound of your voice. “You’re back!” Anakin exclaims, releasing his grip on his master and running over to you. 

He flings his arms around you and squeezes, practically picking you up. A laugh bubbles up from deep in your stomach. “Ani, I’ve missed you! Kriff, you’re getting strong.” 

Anakin releases you and you reach out to muss up his hair.  _ Goodness, he’s growing up so fast. _

“Been causing plenty of trouble I trust?” You give him a wink and he nods in reply. 

“Enough to have begun aging me prematurely.” Chimes in a dulcet voice. 

Obi-wan smirks and leans in to give you a light peck on the cheek. “Hello darling.”

“Hi Obi.” You respond, slightly taken aback by his unusual show of affection. 

Anakin scrunches up his face in curiosity as he looks back and forth between the two of you. You hope he doesn’t notice the faint blush that’s undoubtedly beginning to stain your cheeks, or at least that he assumes it’s the weather. Something about Obi-wan greeting you so casually with a term of endearment has you quite flustered.

It must be an effect of his uncharacteristically relaxed mood, you decide. He and Anakin seem to be having a good day, and the light dusting of freckles over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose suggest he’s gotten to spend some quality time out in the sun. Your heart warms a little at the thought. 

The time you spent off world was strenuous and taxing, but the memory of it melts away in the presence of these two. It’s like you’re finally letting out a breath you’ve been holding in for these past months. Suddenly, all is well. 

You all stand there for a while as Anakin excitedly blabbers on about all of the new tricks and skills he’s picked up since you went away.  _ I apologize, my young apprentice is quite excitable.  _ You hear Obi’s voice echo in your head, as if it’s a thought of your own. 

_ No worries, it’s sweet.  _ You send back gently. 

After several minutes pass, Obi-wan finally interjects. “Anakin, why don’t you run along and get yourself cleaned up, and we’ll meet you in the dining hall later.”

“Yes master.” Ani replies in a tone dangerously close to sarcasm, dragging his feet and slumping off to his quarters.

You can’t help but giggle slightly at the display, which Anakin catches and grins proudly at, earning you an elbow to the ribs from Obi-Wan. “He gives me enough grief with the dramatics already, he certainly doesn’t need  _ your  _ encouragement. The boy listens more to you than he ever has to me, he practically worships the ground you walk on.” 

“Well you can’t blame him can you? I’m just so irresistibly charming.”

“Yes, I suppose it would be rather hypocritical of me wouldn’t it?”

A little rush of adrenaline burns suddenly in your chest, and both of your eyebrows shoot up in shock.  _ Did he just?  _ He wipes a thin layer of sweat from his forehead, still breathing heavily from his earlier exertion. His lips form a satisfied smirk. It’s that same impish expression that always does you in.  _ Gorgeous bastard.  _ Something about him in that moment draws you to him, as if the Force itself is pushing you towards each other, willing you to collide. It takes far too much of your self control to keep yourself from reaching up and running your fingers through his floppy hair before crashing your mouth into his own. It kills you a little bit to not run your hands and teeth and tongue and lips over his sun kissed shoulders, and the freckles on his nose.

You breathe in deeply and shake your head a bit, trying to will the thought away. There’s a pregnant pause, as if he had been reading your mind and needed to recover as you did. You clear your throat.

“Qui-gon would be proud you know. Of you and the work you’ve done with Ani.” You offer.

“What makes you say that?”

“Ani reminds me of you when you were his age, and Qui-gon absolutely adored you then. He may not have expressed it, but he was proud of everything you did - always.”

He wraps his arm around your neck and kisses the top of your head. “Thank you for that.”

“You deserve it.”

There’s a beat before you continue.

“ _ I’m _ proud of you too, if that helps.”

He just squeezes you a little tighter for a moment. Then, he leans back, taking you down with him and landing on the green. Wordlessly, you begin to wrestle and romp about as you did as children in this very spot, letting the strain of the last decade fade away


End file.
